


Peacekeeper of Passion

by DarkJedi98



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Dark Side Jedi (Star Wars), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemy Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Force-Sensitive Reader, Mand'alor, Not Beta Read, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, The Mandalorian Darksaber (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkJedi98/pseuds/DarkJedi98
Summary: You are a Force wielder making your way across the stars. Your struggle with the Light and the Dark comes to a head when you cross paths with the Mandalorian. Will the Mand'alor be your undoing? Or is his own journey meant to help you find your place in the galaxy?
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Jedi Character(s) & Original Mandalorian Character(s), Paz Vizsla/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 85





	1. Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> My fist fanfic!  
> It’s a SLOW BURN!! I will update regularly. I’ll be editing chapters along the way. 
> 
> UPDATE: this a story written in a Second Person POV. The main character is a woman with a background and specific characteristics. It can be enjoyed as a reader insert if you want. I will be going into her background quite a bit and she is more of an Original Character than anything else at this point. Love to all. Xx

You never expected to be here. Out of all the places in the kriffing galaxy, you never expected to be _here_. You’d been hearing whispers during your escapades across the cosmos. Bartenders had filled your ears with rumors of the infamous Boba Fett rising from the ashes and killing Fortuna in the greatest coup d'etat of the decade. At first, when you heard these stories, you were a little offended. You had been traveling with Fett and his comrades for months aboard Slave II; not once did these carefully crafted plans come up in a conversation.   
  
Between witnessing the reunion of bounty hunter and armor, tracking down Moff Gideon, returning Grogu to the Jedi, being (almost) fatally shot in the side by Bo-Katan, and scouring the mid rim in search of a new ship (while you healed from said blaster wound), there had been plenty of time for the pilot to inform you of his imminent Tatooine takeover. Of course, you were also quite relieved to discover you had been left out of the illegal scheming. Murder and crime syndicate acquisitions weren’t exactly conducive to your path towards the Lightside. It really was better for you to avoid being mixed up in shady operations with bounty hunters and assassins. After all, an entire year has passed since you disembarked Slave II and so much has changed for you over the many moon cycles. Any apprehension you felt towards meeting your old shipmate has been set aside out of respect for the fact that you know he wouldn’t contact you unless it was necessary. A Dark Jedi doesn’t act on fear, even if she wants to. So here you are now. On Tatooine. Again. _Kriffing hell._

Boba Fett’s new stronghold is bustling with just about every alien species you can imagine. You don’t know the extent of Fett’s newly acquired power, but he is clearly pushing a lucrative business. The busy ship hangar means plenty of credits are expected to made here. Unfortunately for you, the crowds also mean plenty of blasters are in trigger happy hands. Not great news for someone in your position. The enormous Imperial bounty on your head will inspire anyone with half a brain to turn you in. Far too many eyes linger on you as you make your way to the entrance of the palace. It wouldn’t be the first time a bounty hunter left you to Imperial scum. If your ship wasn’t in such terrible shape, you would be hightailing it off this hellhole of a planet and promising to never return. _Kriff Boba Fett and his kriffing Cartel._  
  
You heave a great sigh and begin your descent down the sandy steps. Fett’s throne room is much quieter than you would have expected. Unscrupulous characters are scattered around in groups of threes and fours to conduct business in hushed voices. The band isn’t playing at the moment and the spot where slaves used to live chained to the throne is empty. You spy Fett reclining on his royal seat as he lazily converses with a Weequay. Lowering your hood, you step out of the shadows of the room and loudly clear your throat.  
  
“I require an audience with your royal highness.” You laugh through your words.

”It’s a good thing I have a job for you, otherwise I would have to kill you for your brazenness.” Fett’s voice booms in your ears, but you don’t miss the sprinkle of humor in it.

You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow, “A job? My days working for criminals are long over, bounty hunter. I thought you knew that.”

“It’s not exactly optional, Princess.”

“What’s to stop me from walking out of this room right now?”

“I’ll put a bounty on you so high you’ll never be able to step foot on a populated planet again. Managing two of them will be quite the challenge, seeing as just about every hunter in the sector has a puck on you right now.” His words have lost all the playfulness from earlier. The shift in mood is palpable and several of the room’s occupants look up from their side conversations.  
  
“Friends don’t typically threaten each other with bounties, Fett.”

“Friends?”

You roll your eyes at his nasty attitude. He is clearly angry about something and the only way to quell the situation is to cooperate. You did owe him a favor for the free ship he gave you- the one you accidentally blew up. Plus, pissing off the man seemed more trouble than it was worth. You know he isn't bluffing about the bounty.

“Fine. But I need a ship. The Imps have been using mine for target practice and it’ll need at least a week for repairs.”

“You weren’t going to be flying anyway.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to question his cryptic response. Quicker than a loth cat, he jumps out of his chair and stalks towards you. You grumble in protest as he grabs your elbow and tugs you up the stairs. Once outside, he yanks you in the opposite direction of your ship and practically drags you behind him as makes his way through the crowd. For every step he takes, you are forced to take two. You know he is manhandling you on purpose, parading you around like a bounty and drawing attention to your presence. The Imperial price on you is being used to his advantage right now. Every krilhead on the premises notices you in his hands and now any attempt to escape would be futile. There are too many skilled hunters in close proximity, all well aware of your value to Boba Fett. A dirty trick, even for him.

He stops in front of a dynamic class freighter appropriately named _Sterling Kestrel_. The ship is in pristine condition; the outside is polished beautifully and the obvious modifications to the hyperdrive and weapon’s system are incredibly impressive. You can tell she’s fast. Very, very fast. The idea of traveling in her makes you giddy.  
  
“Maker, Fett! How much for her?!” You exclaim.

”She’s not for sale.” A new modulated voice cuts into your joy like a hot knife.

Your face flushes with blood as your legs turn to jelly. _You know that voice._ Slowly turning away from the ship, you shake off the hand still gripping your elbow. Your eyes trail towards the man who has spoken from behind you and you freeze when you meet a familiar black T-visor. _Mando_. His beskar is practically blinding in the sunlight and you squint your eyes in response to the glare. You take a minute to notice the changes to his appearance; his new cloak is a shiny silver on the inside, a Mythosaur signet is stamped onto the left breastplate of his chest, and the Darksaber hangs boldly on his belt. He isn’t afraid for the world to see the weapon anymore. He cocks his head at you while you study him. When he steps forward into your personal space, you instinctively backup, causing his shoulders to deflate slightly. A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the last time you had seen this Mandalorian. You had lost control on Jedha and nearly killed you both in an explosion of fury. He left you to the Imps after your literal outburst and the betrayal nearly cost you your life.

“Mando... Come to turn me in? Wouldn’t be the first time you handed over someone with valuable blood.” Your caustic words slip out before you can filter them.

“Now now, I am sure we can all be amicable. Let’s not cause a fiery scene for everyone, little one.” Fett says with a humorless laugh. The insinuation is not lost on you. Mando has obviously told Fett about the events on Jedha.

“I don’t even know where I’m going yet or what this job entails,” you interject impatiently.

” _We_ are going to retrieve the beskar you’ve been stealing for the past year.” Mando speaks lowly as he shifts his weight and rests a hand on his belt.  
  
“ _Liberating_. You mean _liberating_. I didn’t see any _Mandalorians_ on my quest to rescue your precious metal from the clutches of warlords and slimey collectors.”

“Since when did collecting beskar become the path of the Jedi? Isn’t that too ‘involved’ for you?”  
  
Fett places a hand up between the two of you. “Enough. You can work out your relationship problems on the _Kestrel,_ but if you kill each other before I get my cut, I’ll hunt you both down in the afterlife.”

You glare at the two helmeted men in front of you. There isn’t an escape out of this one, you can sense it. The Force has led you here for a reason and you are determined to find out why. _You are a sentinel of serenity, a peacekeeper of passion._ If anyone will be a challenge to your new way of life, it will be Mando. Dark Jedi don’t lose focus over their emotions. You can do this job with him, you _will_ do this job with him. 


	2. Bullheaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mando navigates the stars and you navigate your emotions.

The _Sterling Kestrel_ is your dream ship. Her engines hum mellifluously and she flourishes a class 0.7 hyperdrive. You would be able to lightspeed skip with her. You just know it. Not that her owner will ever let you try, seeing as he is barely able to stand allowing you inside the cockpit with him.  
  
Mando waits behind you, keeping the doors closed with his wrist vambrace as you push the button on the panel over and over again in a vain attempt to open the entryway. When you finally give up and turn around, you realize he is just standing there, watching you struggle silently. He unlocks the doors for himself, brushes past you, and takes a seat in the pilot’s chair to begin take off. He tries to shut the doors behind him, but you are faster than he expects and you’re able to slide stubbornly into the copilot seat. Even though he has made his message to you crystal clear, you choose to ignore his wishes and begin pressing buttons on the console to help prep for hyper. He responds to your insolence by tacitly refusing to punch in the coordinates for the jump and once again, gives you the iconic Mandalorian death stare. By this point you are so fed up with his rude behavior that you forgo all ethical standards and give in to your spite. As an act of punishment, you do the one thing you know he despises most. You mind probe him. Images of you flying into the window of the cockpit as Mando purposefully jerks the ship to the side are transferred into your head. Ouch. Guess he remembers how to reveal his thoughts to you like you taught him. You take the hint this time and remove your hands from the control panel as you pull out of his mind. He might actually throw you out into the vacuum of space if you push him too far.

You leave your seat after a few minutes of being in hyperspace. There are better places to meditate on the ship and you are in dire need of some refocusing. The crew quarters are nice enough to sleep in, but you don’t want to feel like you have to hide away from Mando the entire journey, so you opt to stay in the main cabin while you recenter. You slide into a rounded dining booth and cross your legs underneath you. Eyes closing, you begin to focus your mind through the Force. Control washes over every inch of your body and you slowly fall into a deep trance.

Mando gets up to check on you after two hours pass of utter quiet. You feel him coming towards you, but you don’t break your state of tranquility yet. This is an excellent opportunity to practice staying calm around him and you are going to capitalize on the moment. Unbeknownst to you, wispy white lights are faintly glowing around your body as the Force manifests itself physically for Mando to see. The effect is mesmerizing and usually marks the occasion of a highly spiritual connection being made with the Force. The phenomenon is becoming less rare, but you only ever realize it’s happening when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of the lights as they begin to fade.

“You are glowing,” Mando rasps after watching you for a minute.

“Why thank you, Mandalorian.”

“No-I mean-you are literally glowing.”

“I know what you meant.”  
  
You open your eyes and take a peek at the lights before they dissipate into the air. Slowly, you stretch out your legs and slide to one side of the booth. You’re unsure of how to proceed with the conversation so you reach forward and grab a jogan out of the bowl on the table.

“Why Tython?” He asks as you peel the fruit with a knife.

“It’s safe there. I figured a Jedi would find it all one day if I died and that they probably would return it to Mandalore.”

“Thank you.”

The galaxy must have collapsed in on itself. The Mandalorian had just _thanked you._ Maybe, you had ingested some spice in Boba’s palace or maybe you were shot in the head and this was the afterlife. His gratitude should please you, but it doesn’t. In fact, his two words have the opposite effect he intends and you suddenly feel incredibly bitter. Your internal frustration threatens to erupt out of you. How does this man do this to you? Thirty seconds ago you were completely at peace with yourself! Now, all you want to do is punch him in the throat. Hard.

“I didn’t do it for you,” you bite back.

Instead of staying to argue with him, you slam the jogan on the table and stand up from the booth. You stomp towards the crew quarters and mutter expletives under your breath to feel better. Apparently, a year of seeking “balance within” was not enough to cure you of whatever sickness Mando has infected you with. All it takes is a minuscule conversation with the man to send you spiraling back to the Darkside.

* * *

Three days go by where you and Mando neglect to speak to each other. He spends most of his time in the cockpit and you spend most of your time in the hull. You make yourself food, you do your breathing exercises, you sleep, and you study the holocron in your cabin. You’re three-quarters of the way finished absorbing everything the prism has to offer. Nothing is to be found yet about petulant Mandalorians, but you keep looking anyway. You might have to locate a Sith holocron containing secrets pertaining to bloody murder to really help you with this problem. The thought makes you snort.  
Mando isn’t the only Mandalorian you don’t get along with, but he had been a friend at one point and the way you two treated each other now is pretty disappointing. You know the other side of him. You know the other side of several Mandalorians and there is a lot to like about them. They are all loyal, brave, smart, reliable, and confident. Mando’s cynical humor and quick wit never fail to disappoint and his endless knowledge from years of experiences always astounds you. The _problem_ with so many Mandalorians is their pride. A seemingly universal ability to lose their tempers is also an issue. If you cross the warriors they will be ruthless. Every time. The two fatal flaws piss you off easily and you know it’s because pride and volatility are own worst shortcomings as well. You are too similar to Mandalorians.

After another day goes by you decide it is time to talk to Mando. You are halfway to Tython and the awkward tension in the ship is beginning to get to you. You steel yourself and prepare your ego for the possible bruising it’s about to take.  
Mando is in the pilot’s chair burnishing his beskar spear when you waltz into the cockpit. You lean against the wall and offer him a gentle smile when he glances up at you.

“Hello,” you say quietly.

“Hey.” He sets down the cleaning cloth and props the weapon against the console.

“Do you want to talk?”

A minute passes before he nods ‘yes’ in response.

“I’m sorry for what happened on Jedha. And I’m sorry I lied about my past.” You sit down in the copilot seat and lean forward to rest your elbows on your knees.

“I’m sorry I left you.”

“What happened afterward? Where did you go with the other Mandalorians?”

“How did you escape? Why did you hunt down so much beskar?” He evades your questions but seems earnest in his own inquiries.

“Someone I knew working for Crimson Dawn found me and hid me. Once the Imps left, I stole a ship and got off the planet.”

“I thought you died. When Fett told me one of his associates saw you in a cantina on Florrum... I just...” his voice trails off.

“I’m a survivor.”

You want to press him for information on what had happened with the other Mandalorians, but you can sense the friction growing again. The two of you won’t be able to fix everything in one day and it is better to take things slow.

You lean back in the chair and swivel it away from Mando, “I’m going to get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

* * *

You lie in bed and fiddle with your knife as your conversation with Mando replays in your head. It wasn’t a long discussion, but the underlining understanding between the two of you is apparent. Each of you has broken the fragile trust you built together and neither of you is ready to forgive each other for Jedha. The truth is, apologizing is easy, forgiving is much harder. Forgiveness requires vulnerability and vulnerability requires a restoration of faith in the other person. Even though both of you are remorseful, you know the two of you won’t be able to move forward without some sort of explanation for the past, but if you do dive more into your past you’re not sure Mando will ever be able to trust you again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship makes me laugh and cringe at the same time. There is an epic backstory for our leading lady. Just be patient ! Xx


	3. Buried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Mando reach Tython. Retrieving the beskar is the least of Mando's problems.

Tython is an uninhabited planet. Uninhabited planets are your favorite type of planets because they all have one wonderful thing in common: _stars_. So, so, so many stars are visible tonight that you almost feel dizzy looking up at them. Every time you see the sky like this you are moved. In the past, you believed there wasn’t a single place or thing more beautiful in the entire galaxy. Now, you know were wrong. Very wrong.

As the Mandalorian stands underneath the night sky, his pure beskar acts as a flawless surface for the tens of thousands of stars to reflect off of. His glistening armor holds the heavens in such a dazzling way you forget how to breathe. He appears to be celestial, as if he has been sent down from above to guide you on some sort of transcendental awakening. To watch his armor mirror the beauty of the cosmos is almost poetic. By simply existing, by simply being so unapologetically sure of everything he is _,_ by carrying thousands of years of tradition on his corporeal form, the Mandalorian emulates the most perfect parts of being alive in the Universe. The Force tries to teach you these divine lessons every day, but seeing the Mand’alor like this, in an ethereal form, is the closest you’ve ever been to understanding them. To solely _be_ , without asking anything from the galaxy and without allowing the galaxy to ask anything from you, is the only way to begin to comprehend just how meaningful you are to the Force.

You shake yourself out of your sentiment by recalling the last time you were on Tython. The moons had drenched you in light as you buried a crate full of beskar you had successfully captured from a collector’s yacht. The woman in possession of the two complete sets of armor belonged to the Pyke Syndicate and was planning on displaying the pieces along her walls as if they were trophies she won in battle. You commandeered her vessel and purposefully crashed it on Florrum to have easy access to your ship docked there. When you mind probed the woman to find out who her seller was, you needed to repeat your mantra in your head fervently to keep yourself from tormenting her to death. Her twisted mind was one of the worst you had ever invaded and the hatred you felt towards her rushed through you like off-the-market bacta. _Peace is attainable, but only through Darkness._ _Peace is attainable, but only through Darkness_. You extracted the information you needed and then slit her throat in a mercifully painless and quick death. Over the course of the year spent hunting down beskar, you lived and breathed the new Code you had adopted. Sometimes, you were required to take unvirtuous actions to make progress on your quest, and sometimes, you were able to unshackle entire villages from despots who acquired power after the fall of the Empire. Every ounce of beskar saved by you was done with devotion to a greater cause. Cutting up your enemies, unraveling corrupt governments on backwater planets, and giving power to the downtrodden were all pieces to your journey out of the Dark. Victory is not a craving anymore, your passion can be controlled, and your strength in the Force is drawn from the chaos of your unrepressed emotions. Championing peace is the service you are meant to offer the galaxy and collecting beskar set you off in the right direction. It was the first step of many. This is your Way.

* * *

  
You’re rudely awakened by the sound of the Mandalorian banging on the door of your bunk. When you check the time on your chrono it reads 05:55, five minutes til sunrise. Why the hell Mando insists on getting started so early is beyond you. It’s not as if you are on some sort of time constraint or anything. Well, actually, Mando and Fett probably are, but they never specified and you never asked.

“Get up.”

“Kriff off.”

He tries to open the door to the crew quarters, but it won’t respond to his command. You had sneakily sliced the door’s security panel the first day you were aboard the _Kestrel_ in anticipation of this exact scenario; unwelcome visitor attempts to barge in unexpectedly. Like hell you were going to give the Mandalorian free range of his ship while you were around. The irony made you chuckle to yourself as you reprogrammed the controls. His ship, his crew quarters, his control panel, yet the buttons for the door are under _your_ directive now _._ Best decision you’ve ever made.

“Did you kriffing SLICE my door!?” He yells in frustration.

You can’t help the explosion of laughter that escapes your belly. Maker, the little moments in life made everything worth it.

“Calm down, Mandalorian. I’m awake now. Be ready in a few minutes."

He slams his hand into the metal wall, making you jump in your blanket. For a second you think he might punch his way in, but nothing more happens. A sigh of resignation reaches your ears before his heavy footsteps tell you he has left to wait by the hatch. You drag yourself out of bed and get ready for the long day ahead.

Mando is finished gearing up by the time you meet him in front of the armory.

“You got any shovels?” You ask with a sly grin.

“You buried all of it.” He deadpans, probably very annoyed by this tiny little detail you ‘forgot’ to share with him till now.

“Safer that way.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your laughter contained.

He hums and turns towards a storage closet to rummage through the random tools and boxes stuffed inside. After a minute, he pulls out two rusty shovels and hands you one unceremoniously.

“Why do you even have these?”

He opens the hatch and starts to walks away, “For the bodies.”

When you reach the bottom of the ramp after him, you take off in the direction of the hill leading up to the Seeing Stone. It takes you several seconds to realize your beskar clad companion isn’t following you. You spin on your heel and throw your hands on your hips in exasperation. He tilts his head to the side and gestures his gloved thumb towards his jet pack.

“Oh hell no!” You shriek, “I’m walking. I don’t care how long it takes me. You are not flying me up that hill.”

“Better grab some water then.” He jets off in a dramatic exit, leaving you to cough on the dust he’s kicked up behind him.

You do go back to the ship for some water and you are glad you do. It takes _two hours_ to make the climb up the hill. Thanks to the seismic activity, the Seeing Stone has become far more difficult to reach than any of the other times you have visited. The hill literally gets bigger every time you make the trip. You are sweating under the bright sun and your legs ache from the exertion when you finally arrive to see Mando loading the first camtono of beskar onto the hover sleigh. You had left the sleigh behind on your first visit, using its services several times since. The fantastic device could be sent to whatever coordinates you entered into it and ended up being a very smart investment. You take a seat in the cool shade and open a ration pack to munch on.

“What are you doing? Start digging.” His voice is strained with irritation.

“Well... I accidentally left my shovel back at the ship when I went to grab water.” You try to keep a straight face. You know how much this will set him off.

He lets out a low growl, “I’m going to go get it.”

“Isn’t that a waste of fuel?” 

“It’s a waste of _more kriffing_ _time_ to have you sitting around uselessly!”

“Bring me another ration bar then.”

He jets off into the distance again, surely foaming at the mouth.

As soon as he leaves, you get up to kneel in front of the Seeing Stone. You place both hands on the ground at the base of the rock, take a deep breath, and extend your mind outwards. You feel the cold dirt surrounding the beskar below and begin to will the treasures towards the surface of the planet. In less than a minute, you unearth every single crate and camtono. Continuing to use the Force, you start stacking the goods onto the sleigh in neat rows. By the time Mando returns with the shovel, you are levitating the last crate of beskar and completing the job with a wipe of your brow. He watches as you press a green triangle on the hover sleigh to send the machine back to the ship’s coordinates. A long-suffering sigh filters out of his helmet as he turns in a circle to take in all the new holes in the ground.

“Nice work,” he mutters.

You flash him a bright smile and joke, “You gonna give me ride back or what?”

He shakes his head slightly before opening his arms in an invitation. You realize the quip is being taken seriously despite your earlier snark. He is genuinely offering to save you the long trek through the heat. A peace offering, since he probably can tell you are dreading the walk back, even if you are too headstrong to admit it. How is this going to work exactly though? You will have to hold onto each other, tightly. The necessary closeness would be almost… intimate. Oh no. You can’t back out now, you’ll look like a kriffing idiot! He sighs again and jerks his head to say “come here”. After you tiptoe towards him, he wraps an arm _all the way_ around your waist and squeezes. You squeak in response and he tilts his helmet at your feminine sound. You clear your throat and try to ignore how small you feel pressed against him. Wrapping your own arms around his neck, you shut your eyes in anticipation of lift-off.

“Leg too.” His low voice murmurs in your ear.

Your eyes fly open in shock at how suggestive the words feel and you have to physically restrain the embarrassing sound trying to escape you again. Heat rises to your cheeks, but you obey his command and lift your leg to press a knee against his hip. You’re snugly anchored onto the side of him and his body being locked between your limbs makes you feel surprisingly secure. He chuckles sadistically and you know he is enjoying your fluster. He squeezes you once more before blasting off, taking you both soaring through the air. You enjoy the flight much more than you should, considering how kriffed up your relationship with the man is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy the wild mood swings in this chapter. Its reflective of how real life is, at least mine! ;) Please let me know what you think!! <3


	4. Jedha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader goes back to the events on Jedha, one year before you visit Fett's palace on Tatooine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV changes a few times in this chapter, but I make sure the changes are clearly marked! It's a long one, sorry ;)
> 
> Enjoy <3

_1 YEAR AGO_

** Your POV  
  
**

The sunrise is quite pleasant on Jedha. A purple sky is melting into a brilliant pinkish gold as the sun creeps over the horizon. Crisp morning air tickles your exposed skin and a gentle breeze fills your nose with the scent of moon dust. Your moment of solitude prompts you to reach out to the Force and you allow the natural energy to course through your veins, filling you with raw power. Despite the Empire’s desecration of the temple, the Force is still strong here. You can only hope the connection is strong enough for you to successfully cleanse your kyber crystal. **  
**

“Are you alright?” A deep, modulated voice jolts you back to reality.

“Yes. We should leave soon, I noticed Crimson Dawn guards watching me last night when I went to the cantina. They’ll report us to the Empire if they recognize us.”

“Crimson Dawn operates on Jedha?”

“They use the new port for coaxium and spice trades. Empire cut a deal with them a few years back. Crime lords keep Imp remnants afloat on NaJedha and Crimson Dawn gets protection from the New Republic.”

“You sure know a lot about crime syndicates.”

“Let’s just go.”

* * *

  
You can sense Mando’s skepticism as the two of you pick through the rubble. There isn’t much left of the ancient building and you are obviously lost in where to begin your task. A few chunks of stone etched with faded hieroglyphics remain intact, but you can’t seem to place why the symbols feel familiar to you.

“I’m not sure how a bunch of rocks are going to help you purge your laser sword,” he mumbles under his breath.

You kneel down next to him with a sigh and hold out the piece you are studying, “You know Mandalorian, now that you own one you could try calling it by the proper name; _lightsaber_.”

He huffs in response and reaches for the stone you are offering him. The second his leather glove makes contact with your hand the ground shifts violently beneath your feet, sending you both tumbling towards the ground. 

* * *

**Din Djarin’s POV**

Din rolls onto his side with a groan. What was once rough moon sand is now replaced with smooth black lava rock. Sudden raindrops slide down his silver armor as he turns his head to search for where you should be. Instead, his eyes discover a blue and white armored Mandalorian lying on the ground next to him. A red lightsaber crackles in the hand of a girl as she stands over the dead warrior. The gaping hole in the man’s throat fills the air with the stench of burnt flesh. She abruptly turns to charge four more approaching Mandalorians and one by one she swiftly slices through each of them with her deadly saber. A ship’s engines start to hum from behind the girl as she crouches to remove a helmet from one of the victims. Two red armored Mandalorians stand at the threshold of the ship’s hatch and nod approvingly as she holds up the helmet towards them.

The world unexpectedly plunges into darkness and Din has to strain his eyes to adjust to the low light. As soon as he is able to focus, he spots a hooded figure making their way through a tunnel. It is a woman, he discerns after a moment, cleaning blood off a blade as she carefully steps over a large mass. The lights on the walls flicker to illuminate a graphic display of tens of Mandalorian bodies littering the blood-soaked floor of what appears to be a former covert.

“This is the Way.” The woman mutters to herself as she sheaths her knife.

The scene dissolves into a lush jungle. Din notices two women battling each other in a clearing up ahead. One of the women, a Togruta, smashes two white lightsabers into her opponent’s red lightsaber relentlessly. The woman on defense stumbles backward, barely holding off the attack. The hand not gripping the red saber is pressed into her side, trying to slow the gush of blood from a fresh wound. She screams ferociously and lifts her bloodied hand towards her attacker. An invisible force sends the Togruta flying backward into a tree and she drops her white blades as she slumps against the bark.

Din hears a twig snap behind him and turns to look towards the sound. His movement sends the world spinning into a new location once again. He is now on a pink sand beach with a woman trudging towards the water. She bends at the waist to skim her fingers along the foamy waves. As she stands to face Din, she wipes the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It’s all I have left,” she says as she holds out a pure beskar knife.

Din feels himself begin to sink into the wet sand as he tries to ask the woman what she means, but all his senses slowly fade into a new inky blackness...

* * *

**Your POV**

Mando sits up on the desert floor with a sudden gasp. You stare at him with wide eyes as you process the consequences of what he had just experienced. Before any words can form on your tongue, Mando is jumping to his feet and igniting the Darksaber. Your quick reflexes save you as you block his sudden blow and immediately fall into survival mode. Sparks fly as your two blades connect again and again in a fight for the upper hand. His attack is sloppy and unpracticed, but his strength has the potential to overwhelm you quickly, so you decide to disable him before you tire out. With a quick stab to the unprotected part of his arm, your red blade singes the tunic and skin above his inner elbow. He roars in pain and swings the Darksaber at you with incredible power. Prepared for his reaction, you duck the swing and go to knock his legs out from under him. Instead, he kicks your stomach and swipes the saber in a surprise attack. You fumble backward as you feel the heat of his blazing sword gash across your shoulder and collarbone. The cut is instantly cauterized by the blade, but the pain is horribly intense. He was going for a flesh wound, otherwise, he could have easily killed you just now. Using the Force, you shove him with all the strength you can muster and he goes sprawling into the sand with a thud.

“Stop! I don’t want to hurt you!” You shout through the discomfort of your injury.

He sputters as he sits up to face you, “Wha..what was that! I saw you!”

“The Force. It showed you my past.”

“You.. you killed so many Mandalorians.” The crack in his voice is like a stab to your heart.

Your confrontation is cut short by four metal suits dropping from the sky to surround you. Mando immediately unholsters his blaster as he scrambles to his feet. You reignite the saber in your hand and give it a twirl.

“I never expected to see you in such good company again.”

You lower your saber at the sound of the woman’s voice. “What are you doing here?” You ask as you turn around to face a familiar red beskar helmet.

“I could ask you the same thing, Jetti.”

Mando still has his blaster aimed at one of the Mandalorians, so you gently reach your arm out and signal for him to stand down. If they wanted you dead they would have already done the deed.

“We’ve been tracking you.” The red helmet admits as she holds up a fob that beeps faster when pointed at you.

“Why?”

“Bo-Katan is fighting a war on Mandalore she can’t win.”

“So?” You ask the woman as you scrutinize the other three Mandalorians in the group. Two of the men you recognize after a moment, but the other woman is unfamiliar to you.

“In the past, you would never turn down an opportunity to go after the Night Owls.”

“Lika, Mandalore is not my planet. Bo-Katan can retake whatever she wants.” 

“We are told the attacks are failing."

“So you think it’s a good time to step in, take out the Night Owls, and get in bed with Imperial warlords to reinstate the ancient Way?”

Lika tilts her helmet at you before turning towards Mando, “Has she told you of her beroya?”

Mando shifts his entire body to face you. He is radiating tension and the grip on his blaster tightens slightly before he speaks, “How do you know them?”

“They are from the Tribe I told you I would take you to,” your voice is hoarse as you choke back tears threatening to spill at the mention of your old friend.

He turns away from you and addresses Lika, “Your Tribe follows the Way of the Mandalore?”

“Yes.”

Mando shifts his weight between his feet, “Mandalore isn’t important to me either. I only want to find remnants of my covert that was attacked on Nevarro. I know some escaped off world.”

An answer you never expected to hear comes from the woman, “The remnants of your covert found us. They have joined our Tribe. Our numbers have been steadily growing for years underneath Takodana. Vod, we are asking for you to stand with us on Mandalore.”

You let out a small sigh. You hadn’t visited the Tribe in over six years. Only seeing one Mandalorian at a time on jobs or trades made you forget how many Foundlings the Tribe would actually take in. They would welcome worthy adults too if they were willing to swear the Creed and contribute to the Tribe. It is entirely possible they are formidable in numbers by now.

Lika gestures between you and Mando, “You two can help us bring peace to Mandalore. Bo-Katan isn’t capable of leading.”

You agreed with her low opinion of Bo-Katan. After all, you were the one to denounce her former leadership on Gideon’s cruiser which led to her shooting you, but you never planned on _doing_ anything about her plot to retake Mandalore.

“I can’t help you. You are starting another clan war that will only lead to bloodshed.” The sharpness in your voice hides the pain you feel inside. All the memories surfacing at once are making you feel extremely overwhelmed.

Mando looks between you and the other Mandalorians. You know he is going to go with them. It is the Way. The Tribe will always come first; no matter the cost, no matter who it is comprised of, strangers or siblings, and no matter what they are asking a member to do. You nod at the group of helmets and begin to shuffle towards your speeder bike. A pause in your step is involuntary when Mando barks out your name, but you continue on rapidly to create the distance you desperately need. Crying in front of them is too embarrassing and you prefer to run away than show your weakness. You leave the five Mandalorians behind in a cloud of dust as you speed away towards your ship.

* * *

  
You pace the hull of your quadjumper as anxiety slithers its way into your chest to crush your lungs from the inside out. You will have to wait until sunrise to try and purge your saber again. Every second you stay on Jedha is a second closer to being caught by the Empire. A disturbance in the Force ripples through the ship. Kriff. You try to suck in air, but you feel like you are breathing through a broken straw. A knock on the side of the ship makes you jump.

“Let me in,” Mando’s gruff voice commands.

You open the hatch begrudgingly. He strides in and sits on one of the med crates off to the side. You close the ramp, cross your arms and lean against the frame of the door. It’s not like you have anything to say to him, so you wait for him to break the silence.

“I wasn’t planning on abandoning you.”

“Abandon? Mandalorian, I don’t need you to stay here with me. I’m one of the most powerful Force wielders in the galaxy. You’re not _abandoning_ me.” You are lying, you feel abandoned already.

He lowers his gaze to stare at his feet, “There is a lot you are not telling me. And those... visions. You...Lika says she needs you.”

He must have been talking to the Mandalorians all these hours, where else would he have been? You wonder how much they told him about your past.

“Listen, Luke is right about me. I’m dangerous. I’ve _been_ involved in Mandalorian affairs. I can’t be involved again. My path out of the Darkside has just begun. I can’t go backward now.”

“My Tribe on Nevarro sacrificed themselves for my Foundling. I can’t turn down their plea for help now.”

You can't avoid the shrillness in your voice, “You broke the Creed. If they find out they won’t let you back in, even if you fight for them.”

“This is the Way," he lifts his head to look at you.

You glare at his helmet, “You’re willing to kill other Mandalorians for a Tribe that will exile you after they take over Mandalore?”

Mando stands angrily, “You would know about killing Mandalorians. You use your powers to murder my people like it’s a game.”

“YOU know nothing of my past!”

“Because you lied! Because you killed my people and you lie about it even now!”

Every emotion you have been keeping at bay comes flooding towards the surface as the Darkside consumes your mind. You feel out of control as white hot rage boils in your blood and overheats your brain. You uncross your arms and stalk towards Mando’s looming frame. Outrage oozes out of him and your two wild energies crash into each other through the Force, making the Darkside pulse through you more powerfully than you've ever experienced. Mando catches your fingers twitching uncontrollably and he reads the movement as a threat. His hand reaches for the Darksaber and you slide out of his way as he ignites the ebony blade. The betrayal of the weapon being raised on you a second time pushes you over the edge. Without thinking, you lift both hands towards him and unleash all the pain trapped inside of you. For the first time in your life, Force lightning shoots out of your fingertips into the air.The electricity connects with his Darksaber, bounces off the blade, and explodes all around the ship. A fire erupts beside you and starts spreading rapidly towards the right engine. Mando forces the hatch open and you instinctively jump out of the ship. He follows to land on top of you with all his weight. At first, you resist his immense size crushing you, but you realize quickly his beskar is the only shield protecting you from the explosion happening all around you. Using the Force, you help protect both of you from the flames licking your bodies as best as you can. The amount of effort required to hold back the fire slowly drains your energy and you feel yourself start to blackout as you lie underneath Mando’s metal form.

* * *

**Din Djarin’s POV**

Din knows he kriffed up. Watching Jedha shrink as the Kom’rk takes off into space, Din knows he kriffed up badly. Two TIE fighters and an Imperial transport prison ship flew overhead as the Mandalorians pulled him towards the ship. He wasn’t sure why he let Lika drag him up the ramp without you. He felt numb when he saw the other Mandalorians carry you to safety and prop you against the cantina’s outside wall. His head was ringing from the blast, but he was coherent enough to protest leaving you behind. Except he was livid. His anger towards you was enough to make him not care if the Imps got you. You could just blow up the ship and escape, apparently. The only time he ever experienced this much fury was when the Empire had stolen the kid from him. The things he somehow saw you do in your past made him feel something akin to hatred, but then you nearly killing him on the ship made him feel afraid. Afraid of you. If the magic lightning had hit him and not his blade, he would have died instantly. So maybe leaving you to the Imps was justified, if it meant protecting his vod. You lied to him anyway. Beyond saying you knew a Tribe on Takodana through a Mandalorian you met working as a mercenary, you never told him much about your past. The seemingly personal animosity between you and Bo-Katan never was explained, even when he asked several times about your history with her. When she shot you over your harsh words about her not deserving to rule Mandalore, Din chalked it up to a short temper and her accumulative frustration with losing the Darksaber. Maybe he was wrong to dismiss the incident so casually. You cut off any questions he ever brought up about your knowledge of Mandalorian history by saying a Tribe member told you. Now he doesn’t know what to believe. He can’t think anymore right now though. His brain hurts and the amount of E-bacta in his system is enough to knock out a rathtar. He barely makes it back into his bunk before passing out into a deep sleep.


	5. Roasted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back on Tython wonderful readers! Right where we left off before our little flashback to Jedha! Thank you for powering through my story! Xxx

The food chiller on the _Sterling Kestrel_ is a luxury you could definitely get used to. Tonight you are having real food, not some vacuum-sealed-freeze-dried bantha crap, and you are beyond thrilled. It isn’t every evening a lady has the chance to eat a fire-cooked meal on an unpopulated planet under the stars. If the company was better you would almost consider it all to be very romantic. An image of your dearest friend flashes in your mind causing your chest to tighten. She was more of a sister than anything else and even though it felt like a lifetime since you were together, you missed your beroya every day. Losing her was the hardest thing you’ve ever gone through. If she were here right now, she would be giving you so much osik for thinking about romance on the job. A smile fills your lips at the thought.

Reclining on a row of crates placed in front of the fire, you stretch out and watch Mando turn the skewer to keep the food cooking evenly. The smell makes your mouth water and your stomach grumbles in anticipation. You pick up the bottle of spotchka from the crate next to you and notice no cups next to it. Shrugging, you take a swig straight from the source and give a satisfied “ah” when you finish. A chuckle rumbles out from the Mandalorian and you give him a bashful look while you raise the bottle in a mock toast.

“You’ve always acted like a pirate."

“I _am_ a pirate, Mandalorian.” You take another drink and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Do you think I just _asked nicely_ for all your priceless beskar?”

He laughs again, “Taking back plundered goods isn’t pirating.”

You exhale loudly and imagine the thin line you walk between being a criminal and a hero as a Dark Jedi. Everyone seems to be a bit of both these days, Force-sensitive or not.

“How did you acquire all of it anyway?” He starts to pile food onto two plates, “Did you use the force?”

You start cackling so hard you feel tears form in your eyes, “Maker Mandalorian! _That’s not how the Force works!”_

“I could toss your food into the fire right now you know.”

You snatch the plate out of his hand, “Hunted it down piece by piece. Lots of stories there.”

“Tell me. You’ve...changed quite a bit. I want to know what happened to you.” He holds his plate, but obviously, doesn’t start on his food.

“Aren’t you going to go inside to eat?”

“I’ll lift my helmet enough to take bites and you won’t look at me. Then you can fill me in.”

With a mouthful of food, you retort, “You think just because you are the Mand’alor you can tell me what to do?”

“Please.”

You chew thoughtfully. It’s an olive branch. He is trying to show you some trust, a lot of trust really, and you needed to reciprocate. You swallow before whispering, “Okay, I won’t look.”

“How did you know where to start searching? The pieces must have been scattered everywhere.”

The hiss of a disengaging helmet lock makes your heart beat faster. You keep your eyes on your food as you reply, “I was in an underworld cantina on the surface of Galpos II when I accidentally met the leader of the beskar smuggling network. I mind probed him for information, stole two camtonos of beskar, and headed to Tython. Once I had the initial list of buyers and sellers I just tracked everyone down and took what they had. After I made it through the list, I had to rely on instinct and mind probes. The Force would usually steer me to some poor village being forced into slave labor and after freeing the people, it would turn out the warlord I took down had a personal collection of beskar. Sometimes they would end up having a secret connection to the smuggling ring which led me back to more buyers and sellers.”

“So you did use the force.”

“I did ninety percent of the work, the Force only guided me sometimes.”

“I still don’t understand _why_ you did it.”

“I thought having a purpose would be the path I needed to find balance. To right an atrocious wrong in the Universe and help anyone I could along the way. Seemed like something a Jedi would do. Besides, I’ve always been connected to Mandalorians and no matter what happened in the past, I believe beskar is meant to be with its rightful owners. I'd lost everything on Jedha to the Darkside, I had to change myself somehow.”

Mando’s voice comes out without the modulator and you can hear the emotion thick in it, “Everything?”

You freeze as you realize what you had just said, “Yes... my ship, my saber... you.”

“You lost your laser sword? I wondered why you didn’t carry it.”

“I was in bad shape after the explosion. While I was knocked out with bacta, the di'kut who ‘saved me’ stole my lightsaber and traded it for spice. That’s actually why I was on Galpos II. To look for it.” You push the food around your plate as the memories fill you with anxiety.

“How did you know the person who saved you? You said they were connected to Crimson Dawn.”

”He watched me grow up.”

“Family friend?”

“Not exactly.”

“Okay. Well, are you still looking for your lightsaber?”

You set down your plate, “I don’t know where to begin searching. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack at this point. I sacrificed the lead I had on it for the first camtonos of beskar.”

“I can help you.” Mando takes the spotchka from the crate and you hear him take a sip.

“You could get killed.”

Mando sets down the bottle, “Seems like you are the one I have to worry about.”

The words hurt, but you don’t let your face show it. You shrug and grab the bottle, “What happened with the other Mandalorians? You never told me.”

“We went to Takodana. The Armorer from my old covert had become the Tribe Leader, which was lucky for me since she knew how special Grogu was. I told her I broke the Creed for him and tried to offer her the Darksaber. Apparently, your Tribe knew much more about Mandalorian history and filled her in on its significance because she refused to take it. She told me the Creed was never meant to hinder protecting a Foundling. The Tribe forgave me and they are still trying to convince me to consider stepping up as Mand’alor. I do honor the post in the Tribe now.”

“Wow.” You take a long drink, “Anything happen with Bo-Katan?”

“You assumed wrong on Jedha. The Tribe wanted to help her end Imperial occupation before taking her down. As far as I'm concerned she can have Mandalore, it’s a wasteland anyway.”

You laugh, “You are the Manda’lor but you won’t claim Mandalore?” 

“You’re a Jedi with no laser sword.”

“Touché.”

“I am really sorry for what I did on Jedha.” Mando grabs back the bottle, “I should have brought you. I regret it every day. I was so angry, I can’t, I can't believe I left you.”

“I know… So what went wrong on Mandalore? The Empire still has control of the system from what I've heard.”

He takes a big gulp of liquor, “Bo-Katan refused our help.”

“So you just gave up?”

“The Tribe successfully captured Mandallia after many months of fighting. Now, we are going to try to take Concordia to cut Imperial supply lines. Help the Night Owls from a distance. Hopefully, Bo-Katan will realize she needs the strength of the Tribe to win. I can deal with the politics later.”

“You think she will try to take the Darksaber from you?”

”Probably, but if she doesn’t win the saber in an honorable battle nobody will respect her claim to the throne. ”

“Nobody should anyway. You _are_ the rightful leader.”

“I can’t rule Mandalore.”

“Why not? You’re good at bossing people around.”

He shakes his head and hands you a blanket. You take it gingerly, only just realizing you are shivering, “Thanks.”

Mando nods and continues, “I can help you find your lightsaber. It’s my fault you lost it.”

“What if we made a deal? Sounds like you could use my help with the Empire. You help me find my saber and I'll help you fight for Mandalore's freedom.”

“Can I trust you around my Tribe?”

“Does the Tribe not trust me?”

“Lika does. She did say you killed many Night Owls, but that they deserved what you gave them.”

“I thought they did at the time.”

“She wouldn’t tell me about your past, but she seemed surprised you never told me much. You should know she didn’t realize you were wanted by the Empire. The fob was for a Crimson Dawn bounty.”

“I figured.” You wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders, “You never told me much either.”

“There isn’t much to tell. I was a mercenary once, mostly been a bounty hunter. You know what those jobs entail.”

“Are you a Foundling?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“I am not Mandalorian.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You suddenly feel trapped in a conversation you don’t want to be in. The pressure of sharing your messy history makes you feel itchy in your skin. You bite your lip and think of how to explain your upbringing.

Mando speaks up again when you don’t answer for several minutes, “When are you going to tell me the truth about your past? Why does Crimson Dawn have a bounty on you higher than the Imperial one?”

“You already saw my past. I have the scar to prove it.” Moving your tunic down slightly, you reveal to him the long pink scar along your right clavicle.

Mando clumsily drops off his crate to kneel before you so he can be eye level with your chest. He slowly lifts his fingers to graze the mark left behind by the Darksaber. You lean away timidly and clench your eyes shut in a new-jerk reaction to his reach. He stiffens at your response and tackles you to the floor. You soften the fall with Force, but you don't try to resist him as he straddles your waist. 

He firmly pinches your cheeks with one hand to force you to look at him, “I’m _so_ sorry for lifting a weapon on you. For scarring you.” His voice is so soft you barely hear it.

You stare into his vizor, “I don’t know how to share with you who I really am, not after last time, but I can try. Slowly, if you can be patient."

Mando tilts his helmet as his gloved handraises in an attempt to trace the scar again. This time you allow him to drag his leathered digit all the way across the scar spanning the length of your collarbone. You feel him inviting you into his thoughts and through the Force you meld your mind into his. He shows you the enormous amount of guilt weighing on his conscience because of his actions towards you. He shares the sadness he endures from losing you after Jedha, similar to the sadness of losing Grogu. His emotions go far beyond anything you could have ever imagined and the complexity of the attachment he feels for you is jarring. You sense the emotional turmoil festering in his heart over the confusing fusion of hatred and adoration he still feels for you. You recoil from his mind before you cross any more lines.

Mando lets go of your face, “I’m going to shower now.”

“A cold one?” You give him a cheeky grin to lighten the intense experience you both shared.

He growls and pushes off you to head back inside. He didn’t need to say anything, you knew everything you needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations: 
> 
> osik - shit
> 
> di'kut - idiot
> 
> beroya- bounty hunter


	6. Ill-Disciplined

“That’s too high.” Mando’s grating voice complains as he watches you count out the credits inside the cockpit.

You scoff and look out the window at the small backwater town, “Seriously? It’s reasonable! This isn’t a popular fueling port.”

“That’s why they should be grateful for the business. I have to go fix this.”

“Ha!” You whip around and take a step towards him, “The price will definitely go up for you, Mandalorian!”

He leans forward until he is inches away from your face, “Why’s that?”

You stand your ground defiantly, “Well, one might say the locals here don’t take too kindly to beskar.” 

His helmet inclines slightly as if to say ‘go on’. 

“Blame Fett. This was a common hiding spot for his quarries. Wearing the Wookies’ braids draped over his shoulder like prizes earned him quite the reputation.”

Mando stays looking down at you for a moment before shaking his head in clear distaste for Boba Fett’s old habits. He doesn’t push the issue any further so you stick your nose in the air and breeze past him to purchase the fuel. 

Maker, how did the natives live here with all their fur? The humidity is sending beads of sweat sliding down your back as the Wookie accepts the credits from you. You can't imagine living in this hot jungle with a permanent coat. She turns to start on the _Kestrel_ when a cold prickle on the back of your neck sets you on high alert. Someone or something is watching you. Inching your hand towards your blade, you narrow your focus on the threat creeping closer and closer. In the blink of an eye, you take a reverse grip on your knife and swing it towards where your approacher’s neck will be. A young man stands before you as you stare down the barrel of a blaster. Huh, he looks like a kid. Taking advantage of your moment of hesitation, the boy uses the side of his weapon to strike you across your temple and you yelp as black dots darken your vision. A roar comes out of the Wookie as she nabs the firearm from the boy’s hand. You wipe the blood from your brow while you watch the kid struggle against the claws of the merchant now holding him slightly suspended in the air.

“Thanks!” You smile at your helper and examine the boy. He’s skinny, probably only around fifteen or so, and his messy blonde hair coupled with his sea-green eyes makes him appear less threatening than he probably desires. A strange gurgle, sounding suspiciously like a laugh, escapes the Wookie when you point your knife at the boy’s stomach.

“I won’t hurt you if you tell me who you work for.”

The boy’s face turns crestfallen as he eyes your blade, “Crimson Dawn.”

_Of course_ at the moment the boy speaks those two magic words the Mandalorian decides to show up out of the ship. He draws his disruptor rifle and being the _opportunistic mudcrutch_ that he is, asks the one question he’s been dying to know the answer to.

“What’s the bounty for?”

While the boy is definitely scared of you and the Wookie, the word petrified best describes his feelings towards Mando.

His lower lips trembles slightly as he stammers out an unconvincing fib, “I-I-I don’t know.”

Mando forces his weapon’s pronged tip under the boy’s chin menacingly.

“Please! Please! Don’t! Absconding! It-it’s for absconding!”

You swat at the Mandalorian’s disintegrator and tell the Wookie it is safe to release the boy. As soon as his feet touch the ground the young man runs away in a panic and you cluck your tongue in disappointment. He will die when he goes back empty handed. Another soul lost to criminal life. A short growl from the Wookie regains your attention and you step protectively in front of Mando when you notice the aggressive stance the fuzzball has taken towards your armored companion. You tuck away your knife to hold up your palms in a sign of peace and the Wookie reluctantly backs down. She bares her teeth one last time at Mando before turning to fuel up the ship. Nothing ever goes smoothly for you, does it?

Something clicks in your brain as the _Sterling Kestrel_ flies out of Kashyyyk’s atmosphere into space. The kid who attacked you had a Banking Clan symbol on his necklace! If Mando had not threatened the boy so close to his throat, you would’ve never noted the small piece of jewelry. The Force really _did_ seem to be willing you to walk alongside the Mandalorian right now.

You turn towards the pilot, “I have an idea of where to look for my lightsaber.”

“Really? Where?”

“Cato Neimoidia.”

He groans, “That’s the Quellor sector.”

“I know, but I might have a way to guarantee the trip isn’t a waste of time.”

“Ori’jate. Let’s try.”

You chew your lip as you think of a clever way to brush off the earlier encounter with the boy.

“Hey,” Mando interrupts your thoughts and holds up a small pistol you’ve never seen him carry before, “Since leaving a mafia can be more dangerous than running from the Empire, you should probably carry this too.” 

You take the weapon and turn it over to inspect the gas cartridge.

Scrunching your nose you look fixedly into the Mandalorian’s visor, “Blasters are _so uncivilized_.”

His dramatic sigh is like music to your ears.

* * *

Tatooine

You are in the middle of an excellent round of Corellian Spike when Fett throws you a credit pouch with more than enough Calamari to compensate you for your time.

“Good job. Here’s your payment.” 

“I’d say it was a pleasure, but I wasn’t exactly given a choice,” you take out a Flan and add it to your bet.

“Yet, you struck a deal with the Mand’alor and plan on sticking around.” There is a strange undertone to his words. Something you can’t quite put your finger on.

You look up from your cards, “Will you help me reach the man I need on Cato Neimoidia?”

“I will if you promise me one thing.”

"Maybe,” you tap your fingers nervously against your thigh as you think about your next play.

“Next time, just tell me the syndicate wants your head.”

The Trandoshan sitting across from you lays her cards down with a smug look. This koochoo thinks she’s about to win.

You sneer at her hand as you reply to Fett, “Oh come on. Look how you used the Imperial bounty against me. Besides, Crimson Dawn doesn’t give fobs to the guild right now so it’s not usually a problem anyway.”

“Yeah, they send their personal hunters instead,” he smacks your shoulder. “I’ll give you a Krayt pearl. Very valuable and extremely rare. The man you seek will be interested in buying, but I can’t promise he will tell you anything useful.”

“I’m not planning on _asking_ for information.”

You place your Idiot’s Array on the table and obnoxiously scoop your winnings towards you. The Trandoshan curses and storms off from her lost game as a few of the spectators cry out against your victory. 

Fett's voice rasps in your ear, “You owe me another favor now, since I’m sure my contact won't be doing any more trades with me once you are done with him. Which is fine, I do like having you in my debt.”

Standing from the table you link an arm around Fett’s elbow, “Jabba taught you well.”

“Fennec taught me well.”

“Where is she anyway?”

“Busy.”

“Good talk. I’m going to get refreshed. What room can I have?”

“You don’t want to share with the Mand’alor?”

Your jaw drops for a split second, but you bounce back, “Careful bounty hunter, you almost sound _jealous_ at the idea.”

“I prefer women who carry blasters,” Fett drops your arm as you reach the base of the stairs leading to the guest quarters.

“I bet you do. Big kriffing sniper rifles, apparently.” With a wicked smirk, you pull out the pistol Mando gave you earlier, “Although, I do carry one now, so I suppose you _might_ have something to be jealous about after all.”

Boba snickers as you bow in a graceful exit and you glide upstairs to take the first room you find unlocked. At least someone around here appreciates your humor.

A steamy shower and a decent meal later you decide to go check on your ship docked in hangar 77. The mechanic Fett promised would fix up the vessel is lying underneath a landspeeder deep in concentration when you step inside the workshop. You glance around and see no sign of the yacht you’ve been piloting for eleven months. She’s a decent ship, nothing like the _Kestrel_ , but she always got you where you needed to go. She could outrun most hunters and she never drew eyes on the planets you landed on.

“Where’s my ship?” You ask the mechanic when he finally pauses his work to look at you.

He sets down his tools and scowls, “Your ship? You mean the ship you stole from Pakto. His cronies reclaimed her two days after you left.”

You bristle and take a threatening step towards the man, “You little moof milker! You just gave them the ship? He’s a warlord!”

“And you’re a thief. Now get out of my hangar before I break your pretty little face, schutta.”

Snarling, you reach out and yank the man’s collar, “Schutta? You kath-mutt! How about I break your karking neck, you kriffing spoggick?”

In the middle of your profanity riddled statement, Mando passes by the hangar and stops to watch you threatening Fett’s mechanic. He steps in to intervene when you move your grip from the mechanic's collar to his throat. Placing a gloved hand around your wrist, he squeezes so tightly your fingers spasm, forcing you to let go of the sleemo.

“Take your hand off me, utreekov.”

He grabs your other wrist to prevent you from getting your knife, “Let it go. Fett told him to give up the ship.”

“This is a kriffing cartel! Everyone has stolen ships!” You shake your arms in aggravation. 

Mando tightens his grasp, “You didn’t need it anyway.”

“What am I supposed to do once our little mission is complete and you leave me with no transportation again?” You hiss through your teeth.

“When you need a ship, I will make sure you have one,” Mando promises as he lets go of your already bruising wrists. He flicks a credit towards the seething mechanic, likely assuming the payment will diffuse the tension.

Rubbing the credit greedily, the mechanic makes the mistake of trying to get one last insult in, “Schutta, I’ll make sure to tell Fett to tighten your leash the nex-” A nauseating crack from the man’s jaw as your fist smashes into his face shouldn’t make you smile, but it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:
> 
> Ori’jate - very good
> 
> Utreekov- fool, idiot (lit. empty head)
> 
> Other Translations:
> 
> Schutta - extremely derogatory Twi'lekian insult roughly equivalent to whore


	7. Extricated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mando and you team up with friend to find your lightsaber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a challenge! It literally kept me up at night! I might go back and edit parts of it eventually. Enjoy lovely readers xx

You are leaning back, elbows propped up on the bar, enjoying a drink when a dramatic hush spreads across the establishment. You do a double-take at the cantina’s door when you see a Mandalorian the size of a _kriffing mountain_ standing at the threshold. His blue armored body begins plowing through the mob of customers and for some reason, you can't seem to stop yourself from admiring his impressive stature as he moves closer. The noise returns to the room when he pauses a few steps in front of you and Mando. 

“You must be the Jetti,” the giant Mandalorian’s baritone voice thunders as he takes in your figure top to bottom. “The Mand’alor didn’t warn me of how _alluring_ you would look in that burgundy cloak of yours.”

You raise your eyebrows and take a coy sip from your drink. _He’s kriffing bold._ Unfortunately, you are all business right now. There could be no distractions for this plan to work. 

Mando spreads out on the barstool next to you and juts his chin up at your new acquaintance, “Vizsla.”

The blue helmet nods curtly, “The Tribe is eager to see you. When are you coming back?”

“Soon. There will be one more thing we need to take care of before we return.” 

“We?”

“She’s coming back to the covert to help us fight.” 

“Oh really? Well, I have room for you _in my bed_ , Jetti.”

You plunge your blade into the wooden bar top, “Ne shab'rud'ni!” Who does this guy think he is? 

Vizsla seizes the knife and clinks the blade against his armor. A sweet-sounding ring fills the air in confirmation of the purity of the beskar. He tosses the weapon back to you, “A woman as strong as the beskar she carries.”

Mando nods in approval at Vizsla’s words and hands you both a set of comms, “Here. We need to stay in communication at all times.”

Licking your lips, you place the device in your ear, “You have to go. I’ll meet you two out back when I’m done.”

  
  


* * *

The man sliding into the booth next to you _looks_ like a sleazy collector. He reeks of one too. You can tell he is absolutely aware of your identity by the way his jaw tenses as he studies your face. He tries to mask his discomfort by giving you a wry smile, but you don't buy his little act. You slide the wooden box with the Krayt pearl towards the man and watch as he gently lifts the lid to gawk at the incredible gem inside. His eyes shift nervously around the room before he slyly passes you a cred stick. Instead of accepting the chip, you gently press the tip of your hidden knife against his thigh, right into his femoral artery, and close the lid of the box through Force. He flinches at your silent threat and starts moving his hand towards the holster on his hip.

“I wouldn’t.” You murmur as you apply just enough pressure to break the first layer of skin through his trousers.

He swallows and looks at you with pleading eyes, “I’m not scared of you.”

_Liar_.

You purse your lips and glance down at his quaking hands, “I don’t have time for Jedi mind tricks.”

Snaking your way into his brain, you sift easily through his secrets as his feeble attempts to fight against you make him convulse with agony. Resisting mind probes, especially from someone as skilled as you, is an awful feeling. You still remember the pain from when you learned to resist your Master. The man falls face down on the table as you finish plucking the information you need from him. In a hasty exit, you whisk away the Krayt pearl and leave the man all alone, whimpering like an injured Kiros bird. Boba Fett was right, the collector certainly won’t be doing business with the King of Tatooine ever again.

* * *

Vizsla, Mando, and you weave through the overpopulated streets of Cato Neimoidia until you reach your targeted location. Crimson Dawn and the Banking Clan formed an underworld trade alliance years ago, resulting in a secret safe being built in the heart of the city. The vault protects the crime syndicate's most valuable possessions, including your lightsaber and an almost complete set of thousands-of-years-old beskar armor that Mando plans to appropriate. Between Crimson Dawn assassins and Banking Clan firepower the vault is nearly impossible to break into. Nearly. The collector from the cantina, a top trader for Crimson Dawn, frequently deposits goods into the vault, which means you were able to extract the exact location of the safe house along with security details from his mind, giving you a substantial advantage.

Slipping into a side street, you point towards the roofs, and the two Mandalorians nod in understanding. They jet up to take care of the patrol snipers while you begin navigating through the maze of passageways leading to the entrance of the safe house. Two men on foot move to intercept you, but you Force push them into the wall roughly and knock them out before they can call for backup. Vizsla drops down next to you after a minute and shoots another pair of men coming at you from behind. You continue skulking forward until you reach a door guarded by three Devaronians. Using his heavy blaster cannon, Vizsla takes down the trio with a devilish laugh.

"So much for stealth," you chastise as he nudges the bodies out of the way.

Your big blue bodyguard watches your back while you slice through the security panel. Nineteen seconds and you are in. Not bad. As you step inside the building, two electrostaffs swing towards your head, forcing you into a twisting flip to narrowly avoid being shocked by the melee weapons. Vizsla reacts quickly, picking up the two guards by their necks and smashing them together, instantly disabling them. Impressive.

“Mandalorian! Have you finished with the snipers?” You ask into the comm while you enter the main hallway.

The sound of blaster fire is the only response you receive in your earpiece. Maker! What is he _doing_ up there?

“I’ll go assist,” Vizsla mumbles as he turns to go back outside. 

You sigh and start sprinting through the corridor alone, taking out security droids as you go. After turning a sharp corner, you skid to a halt in front of six heavily armed Rodians staring at you, completely dumbfounded by the fact that you are somehow inside this fortified storehouse. The door to the vault stands behind the bug-faces. Jackpot. All the Rodians come to their senses at once and start shooting frantically. You duck back behind the corner and try to think of a plan. _Sithspit._ Rolling your eyes, you take out the blaster Mando gave you and switch off the safety. _You’re never going to hear the end of this._ Leaping in front of the Rodians, you start aiming to kill. One. Two. Three. Four. You dodge a blaster bolt and send your knife soaring into the next Rodian’s chest. Five. 

“Told you,” Mando's voice rasps as he makes a sudden appearance behind you and shoots number six straight through the eyes. “Looks like that uncivilized pistol just saved your skin.”

“Fantastic.” You mutter sarcastically as you start working on breaking into the vault. It takes you two minutes this time. Way too long. 

You push the door open and step inside the temperature-controlled room. _Karking stars_. Crimson Dawn’s repository is kriffing legendary! This collection has to be the most impressive array of artifacts the galaxy has ever seen! There are billions of credits worth of antiques in this room. You wish you had time to extricate everything.

A familiar pulse of kyber catches your attention and you instinctively reach out for your trusty weapon. The curved hilt flies into your hand with a satisfying thump and a surge of confidence flows through you. For the first time in a year, you feel complete. You know you should be rushing to help Mando with the ancient beskar suit, but your body is being pulled towards the corner of the vault by a mysterious whisper. _Unlock your potential. I can show you how much more you are capable of._ You dazedly wander towards a velvet bag calling to you through the Force and cautiously begin to open it.

Mando shoulders past you, ripping the bag out of your hand, “We don’t have time to browse!” He haphazardly throws the item into a durasteel box with the beskar and pulls you out of the safe.

Vizsla’s voice comes through your earpiece as you jog after Mando in the corridor, “We’ve got company! Three AT-RTs and six assassins on speeder bikes. I’ll do my best to hold them off.” 

AT-RTs? The Banking Clan _still_ operates with Imperial support on the planet? You need to get out there to help him, quickly!

**Vah-rum.**

The lights overhead dim and an intruder alarm begins to wail.

Kriff. 

The Mandalorian switches on his helmet light and you take a deep focusing breath. Four IG units and eight men are moving down the hallway straight for you, blocking the only exit out of the building. You're going to have to fight your way out.

“Vizsla! We are a little preoccupied! You’re on your own, brother.” Mando barks into the comm as he sets the crate of beskar off to the side.

You ignite your saber and the low menacing buzz resonates through the passageway.The Mandalorian moves to stand back to back with you. His cool beskar presses against your hot skin and you swear, if the lighting was better, steam would be visible as your two bodies connected. A storm of blaster bolts starts pelting you and Mando. Time slows down as your red blade begins deflecting as many shots as possible. Mando fires in defense with unmatched precision, taking down a third of the men from afar. Together, you two are invincible; a perfect balance of feminine agility and masculine strength. Incredible. Unstoppable. 

Mando charges forward to engage the small army in hand to hand combat and you almost become distracted by how formidable he is with the Darksaber now. _Kandosii’la_! Mandalorians truly are the greatest warriors in the galaxy, especially the Mand’alor.

The henchmen are proving relatively easy to eliminate, but the assassin droids are really giving you a run for your credits. You use the Force to crush one’s head and you think it’s done for, but several seconds later the karking short-circuit is bombarding you with firepower again. Just as you are starting to become pinned down by the machine, Mando cuts the droid in half and you sigh in relief. Two down and two to go.

Unexpectedly, Mando grabs your waist and spins you around, taking a bolt straight to the back of his chest plate as he protects you. He groans and steadies you on your feet before jumping back into action. His blaster executes two errorless shots and the final pair of men are eliminated. _Stars. He just saved your life_. Each of you takes a remaining droid and slashes through the murderous pieces of junk with enthusiasm. 

Mando picks up the crate with the valuables and starts herding you towards the exit. When you reach the door, you step outside and immediately feel an explosion of pain in your right thigh. Blood starts pooling through your pants at a frightening rate and you double over in pain. The Mandalorian grabs your bicep and scans the roofs around you. He shoots down the sniper as they are running away.

“Vizsla?” He sounds slightly panicked as he speaks into the comm.

“I didn’t expect- pew pew-Crimson Dawn to drop off a ship full of -pew pew- assassin spider droids,” Vizsla grumbles. “I’m surrounded on the roof.”

You lower yourself to the ground, “Kriff, go help him Mandalorian! I’ll be fine.”

Mando nods and jets off into the sky, leaving you with the crate of iron and a bleeding leg. You close your eyes and feel the Force around you. Every hour of your training has prepared you for moments like this. Even injured and weak, you will be able to protect yourself with the Force by your side. _Just breath._

“Traitor,” an unwelcome voice rips through your state of serenity.

No karking way.

Pakto, the very last man you ever wanted to see, stands over you picking his nails, completely disinterested in the lethal weapon you’ve ignited centimeters from his face. He has always underestimated you. You should have known he would be here, waiting for you to show up for you lightsaber. As the new head of security for Crimson Dawn, he wants to see you dead more than anyone else in the galaxy. Especially since you stole his ship on Corellia. 

“Maybe, but I sleep well at night,” you grimace through the searing pain in your leg.

Four men stand around Pakto armed with electrostaffs and blasters. This moment could be a death sentence, but you hate this Imp sympathizing, war criminal Hutt-spawn and there is no way in hell you are dying by his hand. He deserves no mercy. You will show him no mercy. You will use the Darkside, if you have to.

_You must control your emotions with focus._ You turn off your saber and drop the weapon. _You must control your emotions with focus._ You lift both palms towards your enemies. _You must control your emotions with focus._ The hitmen raise their electrostaffs. _The Force is with you._

_Red_ , jagged streaks of electricity hurl out of your hands to strike the men surrounding you. The instant smell of charred flesh offends your nose and you gag at the sight of the scorched bodies.

The smoke around you begins to clear and feel the presence of two figures looming over you. You blink up and see the Mandalorians staring down at you with tilted helmets.

Oh. Oh kriff. They saw. _Mando saw._

“Fly her back.” Mando brusquely commands Vizsla before jetting off into the sky. 

Vizsla scoops you up bridal style, careful to avoid the hole in your leg, and looks down at your paling face.

"Have you flown before?"

You nod, "With the Mand'alor."

He chortles, “I'm better."   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:
> 
> Ne shab'rud'ni - don’t mess with me (strong warning, typically followed by violence)
> 
> Kandosii’la - amazing
> 
> ———————————————
> 
> Hi readers! So I'm starting med school in a few weeks, which means my posting might become less frequent, but please stick around as I am still going to be writing and editing in my spare time! As always, any and all feedback really means everything to me so if you like my story (or even dislike it haha) please let me know! <3 
> 
> P.S Is this a love triangle forming and is it going to ruin our lives?


End file.
